


This Heart That's Healing

by CrazedPanda



Series: All Around Me [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Play, Discipline, F/M, Family Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Age Play, Reader-Insert, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Spanking, writing lines
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2018-12-16 04:42:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11821467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazedPanda/pseuds/CrazedPanda
Summary: Reader is stressing about meeting her family. Being around them tends to bring out old patterns tied with her self worth issues. She asks Sam for help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As promised. I'm ~~toying with the idea of~~ *currently working on* writing a part two covering the events of the next day. I appreciate the kudos and comments are very welcome.

 You had a funny feeling in your stomach as you approached the room you normally shared with Sam. You weren't quite sure how Sam was going to handle this one as it was an unusual issue you were bringing to him - not that you didn't trust him; you did, with your life and more - it was just a little nerve-wracking not to know what to expect.

  The door with the bronze 21 was open and Sam's back was mostly to you as he sat at his desk. You decided to knock on the door jam to alert him to your presence since he hadn't indicated he'd heard you. Sam turned and his expression as he searched your face was slightly wary. That was your fault. You'd been on edge and maybe slightly irritable since you'd received the text.

  “Hey,” you knew your voice sounded a bit sheepish.

  He gave you a small, encouraging, smile and scooted the chair around to face away from the desk. “Hey. What's up?”

  You sat on the bed a little awkwardly, “um, I wanted to say sorry I've been acting kinda crabby this afternoon. I, uh, I got a text from my sister.”

  His eyebrows shot up, “uh oh?”

  You started to shake your head, “Well, I don't know. She said she and mom were wanting to meet me somewhere for brunch tomorrow.”

  He carefully kept his face blank as he nodded, “Ah, I see.” Which was apparently Sam for “Well, that's just fan-freakin-tastic.”

  “I want to see them . . .”

  His expression softened. “Of course,” he murmured.

  “I just-” you sighed in exasperation.

  “You just wish you could see your family without having to worry about how badly it's going to screw you up?” Sam's voice was nothing but sympathy and you were grateful he was able to keep his opinion of them out of it.

  You nodded. “I mean, it hasn't even happened yet and the anticipation is already getting to me.” You gestured with your hand to indicate your thorny demeanour the past couple hours.

  Sam tilted his head in acknowledgment. “What were you thinking?”

  “I'm really not even sure. I was hoping you could help me think of a way to, um, minimize the damage? I don't even like that I'm so worried about it. For all I know we're going to have a wonderful time and I'll feel like a despicable person for assuming something was going to go wrong.”

  Sam patted his lap and you went over to sit with your back against his chest. He wrapped his arms loosely around you and rested his chin on the top of your head.

  “Well, I for one am so proud of you for thinking ahead and wanting to make a plan to take care of yourself. You're not despicable, sometimes things do go wrong, so you being proactive about it is really smart.”

  The praise pulled a small smile out of you. It turned into a grimace as you had another thought. “It's just, when something does happen, it always seems like they start it, but I'm the one who gets the freaking hairbrush.”

  Sam tried his best to stifle a burst of laughter. He managed to get it under control with a heroic effort.”Okay sweetie, give me a little while to think about it. Let's see if we can come up with a way to save you from the evil hairbrush.”

  “It's not funny, Daddy.” You knew he would be able to hear the smile in your voice, though.

  He helped you off his lap and turned his chair back around. “Daddy's going to finish his work while he thinks on our problem. Do you want to sit quietly in my lap or draw on the floor while you wait?”

  You tilted your head and considered a moment. You were feeling a little too antsy to sit as still as Daddy would need you to be. “Draw, please.”

  He found you a notebook full of blank pages and handed you some pencils and an eraser.

  You sat down on the floor with your shoulder leaning against Sam's leg and arranged the notebook in your lap. You drew a rough floor plan of the bunker and then moved on to a few pictures of various monsters you had fought. Most of the time, Sam's hand rested on the back of your head and his fingers occasionally trailed random patterns through your hair.

  You were just putting the finishing touches on a stick figure pishtaco fighting a ghoul-pire when Sam leaned back in his chair and stretched.

  “Watcha drawing, there, sweetie?”

  “A fish-taco.” You pointed to the bizarre tongue of your monster.

  “A fish taco?” he chuckled. “Those are some wicked teeth on the other guy. Is it a vampire?”

  You shook your head.

  “What about an Okami?”

  You giggled, “No, Daddy, you were way warmer before!”

  “Hmm, is it a Nachzehrer?”

  “Yes!”

  “Nice job, baby girl. Can you hand me all your drawing implements so I can put them away for you to use next time?”

  You gathered everything and handed it over. Once he had everything put back, he pulled you into his lap. He nuzzled the top of your head and the two of you just sat there a moment. Sam sighed.

  “Well, I have an idea. I just don't think it's a very nice one.”

  You scrunched your face up in distaste, but reached up to pat his hair. “What is your idea, Daddy?”

  “Well, I was just remembering this one time when I was eight, I'd really been giving Dean trouble when Dad was out on a hunt. Dean’s never been a tattle-tale, but at one point, I guess it was the only thing he could think of to threaten me with and, even though it hadn't worked, he followed through with it and told Dad when he got home.

  Dad whooped me and then he promised that the next five times he left us alone he was going to give me a reminder so I would listen to Dean while he was gone.

  It worked, too: my sore butt reminded me not to be a pain in Dean's - I knew I'd get worse when Dad got home if I didn't heed that warning. I will tell you, Dean felt bad about it - even though I really had earned it - and he never told on me again. We settled our problems on our own from then on.”

  “Is that what you're going to do?”

  You were almost more curious than concerned, although you did feel a familiar fluttering in your stomach. You'd never had a spanking to remind you _before_ you'd done something wrong. What would it be like? If Sam thought it would really help . . . you swallowed a little nervously.

  “Well, I don't know. I don't like the thought of spanking you when you haven't done anything wrong- or worse, you did something very good in coming to me with this and then you get punished for it? It was just the first thing I could come up with. I'll keep thinking, baby.”

  You squirmed uncomfortably. “Will it be bad?”

  He looked into your eyes a moment before answering. “It would be with my hand only. It would be just enough that tomorrow, when you're sitting, it'll give you a reminder if you need it.”

  You sighed. This was like signing your own death warrant, but at the same time, you knew your daddy would take care of you. Your eyes met his unflinchingly, “I want you to do it, please, Daddy.”

  He frowned slightly, but you could tell he was being swayed by your determination. “Why?”

  “I always forget everything we've talked about when I'm with them and everything feels like it's spiralling out of control. I want to be in control.”

  It was his turn to sigh again. “You understand even if I don't want to be hard on you, for this to work I have to spank you hard enough for you to feel it tomorrow, which means it's going to hurt.”

  You tried to look indignant, “Yes, Daddy, I'm aware spankings hurt.”

  “Very funny. Okay, little girl, this is what we're going to do: I'm going to spank you, and then I'm going to have you write lines until dinner.”

  “Lines?”

  “Yes, you're going to sit at the desk and write some lines I'll give you. They're going to be what I want you to be thinking about tonight and tomorrow. You need a reminder, you'll feel your sore bottom, and you'll remember the lines - that's the idea, anyway. Right before bed I'm going to give you another round and then you’ll recite the lines out loud to me.”

  “Two spankings?!”

  “Not really. I'm just giving you half before, and half after the lines.”

  “I don't like waiting.” You had to admit you were pouting a little.

  “I know, but I need you to trust me on this one. I think drawing it out and giving the spanking in two parts is going to enhance the effects, but lessen the amount I actually have to hurt you. You can always call it off, baby girl. You're the one who's insisting on this.”

  You frowned, but shook your head. “I don't want to call it off. I do trust you, Daddy.”

  He cupped your head in his hand and kissed the tip of your nose. “Can I tell you again how proud I am of you? You are so amazing to recognize that you need help and come to me. I need you to remember you are NOT getting this spanking because you are bad or you did anything bad. This is just to remind you, okay?”

  “Okay.” You were getting that weird, twisty feeling in your gut, but you weren't scared exactly. You knew that this wasn't going to be fun, but you always felt better afterward somehow.

  He helped you down off his lap and the two of you walked over to the bed. It seemed like the longest and shortest walk of all time. You knew he said this was just going to be a hand spanking, but you found yourself hyper aware of your close proximity to the drawer where he kept his hairbrush.

  “Hey, you're okay, baby. We're not going to do anything until you're ready.” You realized you must have started gripping his hand tighter. Or he could just tell your heart rate had picked up a little. Daddy could usually read you very well.

  You nodded and relaxed. “I'm ready.” You hated how small your voice sounded. It was just a little spanking. Daddy wasn't even mad at you. Calm the heck down y/n.

  Sam kissed your forehead and sat on the bed, gently pulling you between his knees. He started to undo the button on your pants and you put a hand on his arm. “Do you have to?”

  You could tell he was trying to hide his amusement. “I'm afraid so, baby. I have to be able to see what I'm doing.”

  He had you step completely out of your pants and he folded them and put them to the side. Your underwear he dragged to your knees, causing your adrenaline to spike again, and over his knee you went, your torso supported by the bed and your legs trapped between his. He rubbed your back for a second and you twisted one of your hands in the back of his shirt.

  “Okay, baby girl. You are good. You did good. This is just to remind you so you don't get hurt tomorrow, okay?”

  You nodded against his leg and he started the spanking. The first few weren't so bad. Not that they didn't sting; Sam's hand was large and even when he wasn't swinging at anywhere near his full power, you could feel his strength and the burn in the steady strikes that promised to build as he went on.

  You were starting to experience the first taste of that fire as he reached a dozen or so. You couldn't promise you'd been keeping count accurately, it was starting to take a lot of concentration to keep from crying out.

  That's when he moved lower, focusing on the undercurve of your bottom and the swats grew more intense. A few of these layed on top of each other had you gasping and then whimpering as the swats started falling on your upper thighs.

  Your yelping became more frequent as he methodically covered and recovered where your bottom met your thighs and the areas directly above and below.

  You gripped his shirt tighter and dug the fingers of your other hand into the comforter as the temptation to reach back to try to relieve the unbearable sting increased. Your eyes were prickling with tears and your chest heaving, but you had managed to keep from truly crying so far. Finally, the swats slowed and he went over your entire bottom once more, ending with a firm swat right to the center, hitting both your sit spots at once.

  He rubbed your back as you got your breathing back under control. Your bottom was hot and throbbing and you really wanted to reach back to rub some of the sting out, but you knew that wasn't allowed. You wiped your face on Sam's pant leg and took a long shuddery breath.

  He helped you to stand and kissed the remnants of the tears from your cheeks before carefully pulling your underwear back into place. He gestured to the desk chair. “Sit down.”

  As you tried to gingerly find a way to sit, you realized how much the wooden chair was going to enhance the heat and the throbbing. Daddy always let you lay on your stomach for a while after a spanking, you'd never had to sit on a freshly scorched ass before.

  You glanced at the clock and were tempted to say a naughty word. It was a good two hours till dinner. Did Daddy really expect you to sit here on your sore bottom writing lines for two hours? Yes, yes he did.

  You glanced over and saw he had the notebook you were drawing in before. He had a pencil in his hand and would scribble a few words, then pause with his serious thinking face before writing for another few seconds. He scanned the page critically, erasing and editing a few times before nodding his head in satisfaction and handing you the notebook.

  “Read it out loud, please.”

_“I am not responsible for my mother's decisions and actions. I am not responsible for my sister's decisions and actions. I am only responsible for my own decisions and actions. I will choose to treat others with kindness and respect, but I am not obligated to accept abuse. I will remember the truth: that I am good, I am smart, I am valuable, I am loved, and I am worthy of love and respect. If at any time I forget or doubt these truths, I will immediately reach out to someone who cares about me so they can help me. If I don't get help, and I choose to accept or believe a lie, because Daddy loves me, he will use his wicked, wicked, hairbrush to help remind me, and my bum will be so much worse off than it is right now.”_

  You couldn't help glaring at him as you read the last sentence, but he only smirked in reply.

  “I'm going to be in and out. Let me know if you need anything, but don't get up from the chair. If you need me and I'm not in the room, you can text me, but other than that, I trust you not to touch your phone. I want you concentrating on the lines.”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  You covered your first page trying to still your fidgeting. It really didn't help relieve the pressure at all, but you couldn't manage to stop it completely.

  On the next page you tried focusing more on the words you were writing, hoping that would distract you from the discomfort. Unfortunately, this strategy brought it's own set of problems. You hadn't gone through three sets of the lines dwelling on each word before you felt tears forming in your eyes. Sam really thought those things about you. That you were good, smart, valuable . . . several of the tears fell, splattering on the paper.

  You were pretty sure concentrating on your blistered butt was preferable to this. But you knew this is what Sam wanted: the entire purpose of this exercise was to equip you for dealing with the old patterns of thinking you weren't, and would never be, good enough. The thoughts that being around your family always managed to bring to the surface.

  You tried to wipe the traces of your waterworks off your face as you realized Sam had entered the room.

  “Baby girl? Is everything alright?”

  You nodded your head, worried that you'd sound sniffly if you tried to talk just now, but he came up behind you and saw the tell tale drops on your paper.

  He used your chin to guide your eyes to his. “What's wrong, sweetheart?”

  “I, you -”

  You jabbed your finger at the offending sentence. “I still don't understand how can you think those things about me.”

  Sam kneeled down and wrapped his arms around you and if you shed a few more tears into his shirt collar, he didn't complain. He soothed a hand over your hair and slowly pulled back just enough so he could look at you. “You trust me, don't you, precious girl?”

  You nodded, “yes, Daddy.”

  “I think those things because they're true. I know it's hard for you to believe them sometimes, but that's why I'll always be here to tell you the truth.”

  You ducked your head and used his shoulder to try to muffle the fresh sobs Sam's words caused.

  Sam soothed your back, but you were grateful that he stayed quiet - you didn't know if you could handle any more words just now and he probably recognized how overwhelmed you were.

  You were able to get control and pulled back a little. The way you were leaning forward into Sam was digging the worst spots in the crease above your thighs right into the edge of the chair. Sam grabbed you a tissue and held it while you blew your nose, his other hand supporting your head.

  “I'm okay, Daddy,” you sniffed as soon as you could speak. You knew he was always worried about you and would need the reassurance.

  He stood over you, trailing his fingers over your scalp and down to your neck and shoulders as you resumed writing. Every once in awhile you found yourself blinking back moisture again from the emotions caused by the words you were writing and the tenderness Sam was showing you.

  The burning in your bottom and legs never let up. If anything it was getting worse, but you refused to squirm while Sam was there, so you just suffered through it and tried to focus on the task at hand.

  You had covered two more pages when Sam stretched. “Okay, baby girl. You're about halfway done. You can stand up. Stretch. Rub if you need to.”

  He busied himself getting his shoes out of the closet so you could have some modicum of privacy as you leapt up and finally allowed yourself to slip your hands under the fabric of your undies and run them back and forth over your burning skin. You were sure it was more psychologically soothing than it made any physical difference, but it certainly seemed less torturous afterward. Probably didn't hurt that, for the moment, your weight wasn't pressing it into the unforgiving wooden chair.

  As he emerged from the closet you removed your hands and let them fall to your sides.

  “I don't want you to touch again, okay? I trust you. You know Daddy's not just being a meanie, right?”

  “I understand, Daddy. No touching. Thank you for letting me.” You spoke the last words very quietly, embarrassed to admit how much relief it had brought you.

  Sam's voice was just as soft, “it's okay, sweet girl. Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

  You considered this and nodded.

  “I'll wait for you in here. Hurry back.”

  You did so - the porcelain was cool, but very hard. Besides, you kept inexplicably finding yourself tempted to rub some more and, figuring it might be the complete privacy of the bathroom, decided it would be safer if you took as little time in there as possible.

  When you returned, you noticed Sam was ready to go out. “You're leaving!?”

  He scanned your face, discerningly. “No, I'm not.”

  You raised your eyebrows and very pointedly looked at his shoes and his jacket.

  He was bracing himself for an argument, his voice and expression grew very calm and no-nonsense. “We're low on food. Dean was supposed to go on a supply run this morning, but he got that call from Cas asking him to meet up. I _was_ going to ask you if you'd be okay if I left for half an hour or so, so I could get some things for dinner, but it was very apparent just now that it would distress you to be here alone at the moment, so I'm not going.

  You opened your mouth to protest. This was a practical thing, you'd be fine, you weren't a child for real for crying out loud! You were a hunter, you could handle being home alone for less than an hour.

 You met his eyes. He wasn't budging - it would be a pointless discussion. You closed your mouth again; let the disgruntled look you shot his way speak for you, just so he would know you were absolutely not admitting to needing him to babysit you, just didn't want to waste oxygen on something that was a lost cause.

  “What are we going to do for dinner?”

  “I'm going to improvise. Are you okay if I'm in and out of the room again?”

  “Yeees, Daddy.”

  You admit it, it came out as a bratty whine. Sam marched up to you slowly and purposefully, took hold of your arm to keep you steady, in short made sure you knew exactly what his intention was - gave you every chance to put a stop to it, but even you knew you'd asked for it - and gave you four swift swats to the seat of your underwear. You flinched as they re-awakened the throbbing, but it was more a friendly warning than anything else.

  “Ow.”

  “Watch it.”

  “Sorry, Daddy.”

  “I forgive you, baby, you're okay. Sit back down at the desk. You remember all your instructions?”

  You nodded. You'd have answered him verbally, but you were currently clenching your teeth to keep from advertising how uncomfortable you had just found reacquainting your bottom with the chair.

  “Can you read the lines out loud again, please.”

  You did so and found that you almost had them memorized.

  “Very good. Okay, I'll be back in a bit. I love you, y/n/n.”

  “I love you, Daddy.”

  An hour or so later, your dominant hand was aching, and, although the pain had mercifully gone down some, your rear was still very uncomfortable. You found your gaze going to the clock more and more, but since you didn't know the exact time Sam was going to serve dinner - to be followed by the other half of your spanking, joy - it really didn't do you much good besides make the time seem to pass more slowly.

  You heard a rustling at the door and turned in your seat. Sam was smiling and holding a tray of food.

  “C'mon, baby girl. We're going to have a picnic on the bed.”

  You sprang up and sat cross legged on the bed. Sam joined you and carefully set the tray in front of you both.

  There was peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, cheese crackers, popcorn, and chocolate milk. You giggled at his makeshift dinner, but dug in. Sam cuddled you while you ate: kept one arm wrapped around you and snuck kisses whenever he could.

  At one point he fed you a bite of sandwich, so of course you had to try to return the favor and got peanut butter on his nose. By some miracle none of the chocolate milk wound up sloshed into the comforter or onto either of you.

  When you were both finished you sat for a little while, you leaning against Sam’s chest and his arm around you; his head resting on yours. He finally kissed your temple and, seeming reluctant, went to get up.

  “Brush your teeth, baby, you can wait for me on the bed when you're done. I'm going to put away our dinner things.

  You did so, quickly. You felt a stirring of trepidation, but you were relieved it was finally going to be done with.

  He came back in the room to find you once again sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed. He went to his dresser and quickly changed into a pair of sleep pants and a loose pajama shirt. He grabbed another of his pajama shirts and brought it with him, setting it on the corner of the bed.

  He sat down next to you and took your hand.

  “Alright, baby, let's talk about your plan for tomorrow. What are you going to do if your mom and sister start being rude?”

  “I'll stand up for myself without being disrespectful back.”

  “Good. And if you start feeling bad?”

  “I'll excuse myself to the bathroom and call you.”

  “Perfect. I was thinking I could drop you off and be in the area in case you need to get out of there early, sound good?”

  “Yes please, thank you, Daddy.”

  “You're very welcome, baby girl. What are you going to remember to help you if you start feeling bad?”

  “My lines.”

  “Good girl. Do you remember them?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “I want you to be thinking through them during this spanking. You remember you didn't do anything wrong? You aren't being punished for anything; this is just a reminder?”

  You nodded.

  “Okay.” He kissed your forehead and helped you stand up. He walked to his nightstand and your stomach dropped. “Daddy!”

  He turned back and saw the panic on your face. “What did I say when I told you what you could expect today, baby?”

  “You said it would be just your hand!”

  “And you know you can trust me baby girl. I'm not touching you with it. You remember the last sentence of your lines?”

  You nodded, still a little confused, but calmed by his words.

  “I just want it where you can see it. Okay?”

  You grimaced, but nodded.

  He returned to the bed with the heavy wooden brush in his hand and set it on the bed behind him as he sat down.

  He gently took your underwear down to your knees and guided you over his lap. Even with all his assurances you did not like looking over and seeing that thing.

  “Are you ready?”

  You found your familiar hand holds in your daddy's shirt and the bed spread. “Yes, Daddy.” You hoped he didn't hear the whimper in your voice.

  He began spanking, slowly, alternating sides and methodically covering your bottom down to your thighs. It was terrible because you knew almost exactly where the next strike was going to fall and it made the space in between seem like an eternity. You knew he was not spanking anywhere near as hard as he could, but by the time he'd covered the entire space, the fire from before had been renewed with a vengeance.

  Then the tempo picked up and they started coming a little harder. You couldn't hold back your whimpering that turned to yelps. You were trying to run through your lines in your head, hoping they would provide a distraction, but he changed the tempo again, going back to slow, even, swats. As he started paying special attention to your sit spots and thighs, the tears started in earnest.

  He paused. “You're doing so good, baby. Just twelve more, okay?”

  They were rapid fire and hard. Four swats to the center of your bottom, four to the undercurve, and the last four to your thighs. And then his hand was rubbing those soothing circles into your back and it was over. It didn't take long to expend your tears into the comforter. It really hadn't been that bad. He was right, just enough you would be able to feel a slight discomfort when you were sitting tomorrow. Right now it burned like heck, of course, and you hoped he would put the brush away soon.

  As your sniffles diminished, he helped you up and cautiously slipped your underwear back over your throbbing skin. He kissed your tears and held a tissue to your nose so you could blow then had you sit back down on the bed.

  “Arms up, Angel.” You obeyed and he took off your shirt, replacing it with the shirt he'd set out. It was loose on you and smelled like him. It made you feel comforted and safe.

  “I figured you probably wouldn't want any pants?”

  You shook your head.

  He sat back down next to you. “I need you to look at me baby girl. Can you tell me your lines? It's okay if you need to look at them, I can go get the notebook . . .”

  You shook your head. “I think I can say them, Daddy.”

  “Go ahead, baby.”

  “Um, I'm . . . I'm not responsible for my mom's decisions and actions. I'm not responsible for my sister's decisions and actions. I'm only responsible for my own decisions and actions. Um, I will choose to treat others with kindness and respect, but I'm not, ah- obligated to accept abuse. I'll remember the truth: that . . . that . . . erhm, I'm . . . g-good . . .” You took a deep breath and tried again

  “I'm-good-I'm smart-I’m valuable-I’m-I'm loved, and, uhm, am-worthy-’f-love-’n-r’spect.”

  “Hold on, hold on, sweetie. You were doing really good. You didn't do anything wrong.”

  You could feel your lip quivering and you could only imagine what a mess you appeared to him. You knew he was going to make you say them again and you honestly didn't think you could handle it.

  He paused and seemed to weigh his words. “I know you can do it, baby. Because you _are_ in control. They don't have that power over you any more. It's just you and me, right here. If you really need me to, I can say them and you can agree. Would that be better?”

  You sniffed and he gently wiped the couple tears waiting to fall.

  “I just want to be able to say them. Could you, could you say them and I'll repeat after you?”

  “Of course baby girl.”

  He cupped your head in his hand and gazed into your eyes.

  “You are good.”

  “I am good.”

  “You are smart.”

  “I am smart.”

  “You are valuable.”

  You swallowed thickly, “I am valuable.”

  “You are loved.”

  “I am loved.” that one wasn't hard with the truth of it right there in your Daddy's eyes.

  “You are worthy of love and respect.”

  “I- “ you looked at him pleadingly.

  He surprised you by giving you a mischievous grin and whispering “I say so, precious girl; you'll just have to take my word for it.”

  You couldn't help returning his smile.

  “I, I am worthy of love and respect.” Your voice was quiet and it wavered, but you got it out.

  “You're also strong and brave as fuck, but I forgot to write that so you don't have to say it.”

  You couldn't help giggling, “Daddy! You said a naughty word.”

  “It was for a good reason. Can you finish by yourself, baby? You're doing so good.”

  You nodded. “Um . . . ?”

  “Love and respect,” Daddy prompted.

  “Oh! Uh, If at any time I forget or doubt these truths, I’ll immediately reach out to someone who cares about me so they can help me.”

  You took a deep breath, “If I don't get help, and I choose to accept or believe a lie, because Daddy loves me, he will use . . .” You gulped and tried but failed to not look at the implement in question sitting a few feet away on the bed.

  “ . . . his wicked, wicked, hairbrush to help remind me, and my bum will be so much worse off than it is right now.” You scowled at Daddy as you finished, but he was smiling.

  “You were so, so good for me, baby! Okay, it's bedtime. Can you put that away for me, please.”

  You put your hands behind your back and looked at him in alarm. He'd never had you touch it before, but this was obviously intended to be part of your reminder, so you gingerly took the handle between your thumb and finger and took it to the drawer where Daddy kept it, holding it practically at arms length. You resisted slamming the drawer shut and returned to the bed where Daddy was holding the covers up for you.

  You scooted in and he turned off the lights before joining you. He hugged you tightly to him and whispered how much he loved you and how proud he was of you. And that's how you fell asleep, safe in your daddy's arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to make it show that she fluctuates how much she's embracing little space throughout the scene. They are still new to it and when she's thinking about it, she resists going there. It embarrasses her still and goes against everything that's been drilled into her to be self sufficient and stuff down what she's going through inside. There was a time in the middle there that her fighting against the affirmations she was writing triggered her to try to claw her way back out of the scene. You'll notice she called Sam by name in her head until he'd calmed her down and she got back on track.  
> Idk if I did a good job of it, but that's what I was going for.


	2. Update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, and I'm so sorry for the long absence to anyone who read this story and was waiting for the next chapter. 
> 
> Bad migraines and other real life junk either contributed to, or didn't at all help, a massive case of writer's block.
> 
> Thanks to edge_of_clairvoyance I got the genius idea to try to write something else just to get things flowing again and so I have written the tale of the memory Sam mentioned to the reader in the first chapter of this work. 
> 
> The second chapter is coming along and I am fleshing out ideas for several following works in this series. Thank you for your patience, you guys are the best. <3

For anyone interested, the link to the young Sam story is here:

[On the Keeping of Promises](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12877158/chapters/29414904)

https://goo.gl/images/As9CHX


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events of the morning directly following the first chapter - including of course the much anticipated brunch. (There is no smut in this chapter, see note at the end)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! I've been plugging away at this chapter for months, but it's finally ready thanks to the tireless encouragement and advice, and beta-ing prowess of Edge_of_Clairvoyance and ToscaRossetti. I'm so sorry for anyone who's been curious and waiting to see what happens next.

You came awake gradually, the first thing that registered was Sam's arms were loosely holding you and one hand was gently trailing over your back and arms. The second was the smell of coffee- apparently Sam had managed to sneak out of the room and back without waking you. 

“Mmm, waht-time’s uht?” you slurred causing your boyfriend to chuckle amusedly in your ear. Chuck, that must be one of your favorite sounds.

“About two hours til you have to leave. I figured that would leave you just enough time to comfortably get ready, but not enough extra time to freak out.”

Oh right, your brunch plans. Was there time to cancel that? You were awfully comfortable where you were. Who even has brunch, anyway?

A delicious kiss - starting at your temple and working it's way down to pause briefly at your mouth before continuing onward to wind up teasing at your shirt collar - effectively interrupted your disjointed thoughts. Your hands wound in Sam's hair and you were all for seeing where that would take you, but he broke away and smiled down at you. 

“Clearly, I overestimated how long it takes you to freak out. There's no need for that though. How are you feeling this morning?” He brought his hands down to your hips and applied gentle pressure as he slid them over your ass.

Your nose wrinkled, but you didn't flinch or pull away. “Tingly, maybe the smallest bit sore.”

“Perfect.” he gave a proud smirk that made you giggle.

“Yeah, you're a pro at spanking. Too bad you can't put that on a resume.”

“Oh ho, someone had better watch it.”

You had been afraid at one point that adding this other facet to your relationship with Sam would ruin what you two had, but never once had it interfered. He was completely your boyfriend right now, teasing and flirtatious, without a hint of real threat to the words. You responded by kissing him long and deep, only stopping when you both needed air. 

“Do I smell coffee?” He helped you sit up and handed you your mug. There was a bowl with some strawberries and melon cut up as well.  
He took his own mug and you sat in easy silence for a while, just waking up.

You were so comfortable it took a little bit for the doubts to creep back. Sam noticed the shift and cleared his throat. “Hey, you have your game plan. I'll be five minutes away. And - You know you don't have to go, right? I think you'll be disappointed if you don't, though, I know you don't get the chance to see them very often.”

You nodded and he kissed you again. “You remember your lines?”

You smirked, “Yes, I remember.”

“Well here's my promise - No matter what happens today I will still love you with everything I have. I am on your side. I won't think less of you or judge you or be disappointed in you.  
If you call me, I will be there and get you out in under ten minutes.”

His voice dropped until it carried a hint of a growl. “If you forget what we talked about and we have to have a discussion about not abusing my girlfriend, you will be bringing my brush to me and I will use it to bust your bare butt just like I promised, but before and after and the entire time, what will not change is that I love you and I'm with you and you are amazing and perfect.”

Your eyes opened wide and your whole body seemed to tingle as he issued the threat. You resisted the strong desire to rub your bottom.

He brought his mouth close to your ear. “If you're a good girl, I'll get out the arnica gel as soon as we get home and make sure the sore from yesterday is all gone. And then, I'm going to take care of you. However. You. Want.” 

You could feel the goosebumps roll across your body again and you shivered. Your voice was faint as you answered, “I, I'd like the second one.”

“Hmm. Me too.” His tone could only be described as predatory as he leaned back against the headboard, clasped his hands behind his head, and took a minute to devour you with hooded eyes. 

A slow grin crossed his face and you poked him in the stomach causing him to laugh and switch from sex god Sam to your easy-going tender morning Sam again. You made a private deal with yourself to do your best to make sure you got to see sex god Sam again later. 

How did he do that? You’d been about ready to start spinning your wheels stressing about brunch and now you were eagerly anticipating an afternoon of possibilities.

You decided to shower together, but you both tried to stick to the task at hand. If some kissing and.lingering caresses went on, neither of you could really be faulted.

Your leg jiggled nervously as Sam pulled up next to the restaurant. He rested his hand on your knee a moment, acknowledging your stress without trying to make you stop. 

“Would it help if you told me your lines one more time?”

You took a deep breath and your jittering stilled. “I'm afraid that would just make me a wreck. I remember them, Sam. I'm going to be fine, and I know you'll be there if I need you; I can do this.” 

He nodded and gave you a proud grin, “I know you can, you've got this.” he leaned over to give you a kiss. “Kick it in the ass.”

“ _Oookaay, Dean_ ,” you teased, stepping out of the car and giving him a nonchalant wave over your shoulder. 

About halfway through the meal you were honestly surprised at how smoothly it seemed to be going. You were fighting feelings of guilt that you'd been anticipating the worst. Your mom and sister just wanted to spend some time with you. What kind of person misjudged their family like that?

Distracted with your internal struggle, you suddenly became aware your mom was waiting for you to respond to something you didn't catch “Sorry, what?”

“I said I got you a date. My friend, Renee, from gym, her nephew is in town. He's a lawyer, super cute, he's looking for someone to show him a good time while he's here.”

There was such a tangle of thoughts and feelings produced by her words that your mind was essentially blank trying to deal with it all. You grasped the first coherent sentence that bubbled to the surface and hoped it sounded relatively calm and respectful. “Um, that's nice mom; I'd like to help out your friend, but . . . you know I have a boyfriend?”

“Oh, right, the . . . librarian isn't he? I didn't know that was still a thing. I'm kind of surprised you're still sticking with this whole research kick you started on. Honestly, I'd hoped you'd come to your senses by now and try to do something worthwhile. I mean just look at your sister: college, a good job, engaged, and you know her fiance is on track to become a successful surgeon.”

Of course your family couldn't know the reality of your chosen “career”. Neither would it be helpful for you to inform your mother that Sam got most of his income through credit card fraud. 

You tried taking a calming breath, “I know your concerns, Mom, and I appreciate that you care, but I love Sam, and I love what I'm doing - the . . . research I'm involved in makes me feel that I *am* contributing to something worthwhile.”

“That's all well and good, but you might think about growing up one of these days and trying to join us in the adult world.”

That was it. One stupid sentence and she could make you feel like the unreasonable child that she was painting you as, ignoring the wisdom of your poor patient mother. All the blood rushed to your cheeks, you could have sworn the temperature had risen by 20 degrees, and you bit back the torrent of words that threatened to break free - you didn't even know what you were going to say, but it was a safe bet it wouldn't be anything helpful. What you did allow yourself to say in as civil a tone as you could manage was, “I need to run to the restroom,”

As you stood to go, your sister rolled her eyes, “Really? You're going to throw a tantrum because Mom's trying to help you?”

Your mother adopted a put-upon tone, “It's okay, it's my fault, really. I should have known not to try to say anything.”

You didn't hear anything else, you were gripping your phone in your pocket and concentrating on making it to the bathroom before the furious tears you could sense forming became visible and you made a complete idiot of yourself.

Stupid! How could you have let her get to you like that? How could you have let your guard down in the first place and forget this was what she did?

You made it to the refuge of the bathroom and leaned against the door as it closed. A sudden rush of warmth distracted you from the effort you were still making to stave off the bout of tears, and in your emotionally jarred state, you actually found yourself giggling a little. The somewhat forceful encounter your butt just had with the door had reawakened a small measure of heat there. 

You had better stop with the ‘stupid’ stuff if you wanted fun times instead of an even warmer ass then you currently possessed. You pulled your phone out and quickly dialed the number of the person whose voice you most wanted to hear. 

“Hey baby,” Sam’s tone was gentle and supportive already. He probably guessed you hadn't been long enough for brunch to fully run its course. 

“Sam, I feel like such a wimp right now, but could you come get me?”

“Yes, of course I'll come get you. And you're not doing anything wrong by asking for help: there's nothing weak about protecting yourself, for one, and you're just sticking with the plan we made. Where are you now?”

“The bathroom.”

“I'm headed toward you, about three minutes from the restaurant now. How bad was it? Do you want to say goodbye, or just get the hell out?”

“Um, I can say goodbye if I know you're right there.”

“Okay. You don't have to, you know: you don't owe them anything when they're acting that way.” Sam's voice dropped to a dangerously low pitch, and it was somehow soothing to know he was angry at them on your behalf. 

“I know, Sam. Thank you. I want to for me.”

“Alright, then. I'll be right there. I'm proud of you, you know.”

“Thanks, Sam.” You ended the call so Sam could concentrate on driving and used the time to focus on your breathing - your conversation had calmed you some, but you wanted to be completely in control by the time you faced your mom and sister again. 

You got a ping and read Sam's text that he was walking through the door. Squaring your shoulders, you exited the bathroom and headed toward the table where your family was still enjoying their food. You had to quash the nagging feeling they had been talking about you in your absence - or worse, maybe they'd been relieved you'd left and they could now enjoy their meal in peace. 

You glanced toward the entrance and caught Sam's eyes lighting up as he found you. It took your breath away and effectively halted your growing distress. You were going to put an end to this nonsense and go spend time with someone who enjoyed your company and you knew wasn't going to demean or manipulate you. You loved your mom and sister, truly, but this super great family fun time was officially over.

You signaled to Sam indicating your family's table and covered the remaining distance at a more relaxed pace. “Hey, guys, I'm so glad I got to see you, thanks mom for setting this up! But Sam's here to pick me up and it's time we were heading back.”

Both of them started as they saw Sam approaching behind you. He kissed you chastely on your temple, before acknowledging your mom and sister with a curt nod. “I don't believe we've formally met. I'm Sam.” 

He kept his voice and face carefully neutral, but there was an intensity in his eyes and a tightness to his jaw that gave away to you, who knew him well, just how pissed he was. Even your mom and sister, civilians though they were, seemed to have some instinct telling them the imposing man in front of them wasn't someone to mess with. 

They both introduced themselves and endured a firm handshake before your mom piped up, “It's a pity you had to be inconvenienced, one of us could have dropped her off after we were done visiting.”

“Well, I hate to cut short the - pleasant - time you were having, but I assure you, y/n is _never_ an inconvenience to **me**.” He looked back to you. “Ready?”

__

__

With a heroic effort, you hid your amusement at his subtle use of emphasis and nodded, “Just about.” You placed some cash on the table next to your plate to cover your meal and walked around to hug your mom and then your sister. They both reciprocated, still in shock - your mom's mouth was literally still hanging open - and as you turned you could just catch your sister's incredulous whisper of “he's the librarian?”

 

Leaving the restaurant, your arm twined in Sam's, you felt a giddy rush of triumph. You were glad you'd accepted your mom's invitation after all. You'd gotten to see them, and actually have a pretty nice time overall, but when they started being rude, you'd been able to keep yourself from engaging as you usually did. Hopefully you'd sent a clear message that you cared about them, but wouldn't just sit there and allow yourself to be mistreated by them. 

Sam noticed you bouncing as you walked and, catching sight of your smile, chuckled, “I have to say, that's a vast improvement on the normal outcome of this scenario.”

You nodded and as Sam helped you into the car, reached over to kiss him for real. “Thank you Sam, that was amazing!”

His answering smile was pure sunshine. “I'd amend that and say *you* are amazing, but I'm glad I could help.”

You'd barely made it through the bunker door when Sam spun you around and took your breath away with a soul melting kiss. When the two of you came up for air, Sam gave you a devilish grin and he explained, “Just got a text confirming Dean's going to be out all day, and I seem to remember promising someone a reward . . .”

 _Oh, hell yes!_ You gripped the back of Sam's hair and pulled him in for another kiss, letting your enthusiasm answer for you. 

As you slowly made your way to the bedroom in this fashion, you grudgingly halted Sam with a hand to his chest. He stopped immediately, and you laughed at his unintentional pout, “Just a sec. I just wanted to thank you Sam, truly. You helped me be in control of the situation for once. You're always there with exactly what I need.” You decided to have mercy on him “- And right now what I need is to get you out of some of these damn layers!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been wisely pointed out to me that not everyone reading this story is looking for smut, while some do enjoy it, so I decided to finish writing the ensuing smut scene and post it separately so anyone who doesn't want to read it can still find out what happened at brunch


End file.
